“I am downloading the original file structure now.”

“I am looking at the creation metadata.”

On the phone, we heard the rapid clicking of Priya’s keyboard.

“Evelyn,” Priya said, her voice dropping.

“The document was created on October twelfth, at three-fifteen in the afternoon.”

“That was the day of your gallery opening in Paris,” I said, looking at Julian.

“The MAC address of the computer that created the document belongs to a high-end desktop,” Priya continued.

“It matches the hardware profile of the private server in Greenwich.”

“The digital signature was applied from that exact machine using an administrative override code.”

“An override code only the system administrator—Bennett—had access to.”

A soft chime sounded from the burner phone on the table.

The screen lit up, showing an incoming message from an unknown number.

I reached out and tapped the screen.

The message was a single line of text: *I know where she went, Evelyn.*

“Who is that?” Julian asked, leaning closer to the glass table.

“It is Marta,” I said, my finger hovering over the screen.

I swiped to unlock the phone, but another message popped up immediately.